


A Midsummer Night's Dream (Remix of "each sad lost wave")

by Arzani



Series: the world in balance [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Boys In Love, Couch Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Multi, OT3, Somewhat, happiness, talking about happy times, they're just happy, very brief mention of John Silver/Madi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: John, Thomas and James reminisce about Miranda together. More precisely of how hard she had made it for Thomas to get her to marry him.Remix of "each sad lost wave" by Wildehack (Tyleet).





	A Midsummer Night's Dream (Remix of "each sad lost wave")

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wildehack (tyleet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyleet/gifts).
  * Inspired by [each sad lost wave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956474) by [Wildehack (tyleet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyleet/pseuds/Wildehack). 



> I hope you don't mind the OT3 and placing the whole story after the end of the series, rather than before it. I somehow loved the idea of hearing about it from Thomas' point of view (and a little from James, as well).

Something was off. It wasn’t hard to realize when looking for the right signs, but it astonished John that by now he knew what to look for. It was the slumped shoulders and the missing morning kiss that revealed Thomas was not his usual cheery self. He gave James a look, the third of their unusual trio, but a faint shook of his head showed John, that no, no James had no clue what was going on with their lover, either.

They had developed a morning routine. It was mostly Thomas who woke first, only sometimes James beat him. It was the nightmares that didn’t leave them all, that ripped them off their sleep, but it was good to experience they became less.

Thomas had made it a habit to put the kettle on for tea, and James would join later to prepare breakfast. John, who worked in the tavern as a cook, sometimes late into the night, used it to his advantage to not be needed for work before midday. He loved sleeping in late and enter the kitchen to a fully prepared breakfast table.

It hadn’t been any different this morning, but the tea was bland and John was worried. He played with his porcelain tea cup, white with filigree blue patterns, while he watched Thomas set aside his half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs.

While John still searched for the right words, not sure how to approach the subject, James moved his hand to Thomas’ and placed it on top of his. Turning his palm upwards, their finger entangled and James squeezed.

“I hope you’re aware we would never force you to speak, but know we’ll listen,” James said softly, softer than John had ever heard him speak as Captain Flint. It felt so relieving to know the Captain had made place for the man behind.

It didn’t to see a tear roll down Thomas’ face.

John gulped the lump that formed in his throat away and leaned over the table, mindful of the dishes, to brush the precious tear away. Thomas’ skin was smooth, despite the hours he had spent in the sun. As if to remind he had once been a Lord.

When John attempted to sit back, Thomas reached for his wrist. Callouses of the hard work on the plantation could be felt, but John didn’t give them any mind. He was unable to when his mind was so focused on the lips that caressed his knuckles. Only after they were gone, he could lower himself back onto his seat.

“Thank you. Both of you,” Thomas whispered, loud enough for them to hear, but low enough to cover his wavering voice. Only a fraction of what must simmer under his surface shone through. A small, but genuine smile appeared on James’ face, so wonderfully honest and open, it felt like looking at the moon. John would never get enough of it, was it directed at him or not. He didn’t mind that it was reserved for Thomas, this time. To know James could smile was enough to make John’s heart swell. For it showed what all he had gotten back, after too long a tragedy.

Not to mention he knew James could look at him like it, too.

“Nothing to thank us for, not yet,” James added, then he stood. He looked radiant with his brown shirt, dark breeches and small smile. Sunrays that filtered through the window illuminated his hair in a fiery red. By now it was long enough again to fit into a small ponytail.

John would have added something, had there been the need. But James had spoken for him as well, in a way only he could, and John was content to show his approval of James’ words by giving a small nod. In silence he watched how James rounded the table, his hand sliding over the rim of it until he stood in front of Thomas. It was a sight to behold how he gave him a kiss on the forehead, lovingly, and stroked his cheek. Sure, Thomas could let them know what he was hiding deep within, but some secrets didn’t have to be revealed, as they hurt more in the broad daylight.

* * *

James had gone to tend to their little farm, while John cleaned the used cutlery. It was part of their morning routine, too. Out of the corner of his eyes he glanced at Thomas now and then, but the man hadn’t moved much. Usually he was needed in the store by now, but it seemed he had gotten the day off. Instead he had grabbed a book which he read, slower than usual, but he read.

Drying his hands, after he had put the last plate aside, John leaned against the counter. He knew many reasons for not wanting to speak, but he also knew it didn’t mean not to want company. Placing the drying cloth aside, he moved to Thomas’ chair and slung his arms around the man’s neck, using his shoulders for balance. After a moment Thomas returned the hug by placing his hands on top of John’s.

“What are you reading?” he asked into the golden hair, peeking over Thomas’ forehead to catch some of the words. His chin rubbed slightly over the scalp it was placed on.

Thomas hummed, before he answered, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It was one of Miranda’s favorites. She loved the meddle of the characters. The chaos and the fragility of socially accepted marriage especially.” His words trailed off and John knew better than to press. Something in his tone showed there was more to his choice of book, so all John did was to rub his thumb over whatever skin he could reach. After a long while Thomas added, “It would be our wedding anniversary today.”

Closing his eyes, John sighed. Some wounds weren’t supposed to heal, and the loss of Miranda was one of those. Not only for Thomas but for James as well. They grieved her differently, but they grieved. It was okay. John understood. Believed at least to understand.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, because there was nothing else to be said about it. His chin still rested on top of Thomas’ hair and he tilted it to sink his nose into the strands. They smelled of soap, sweet, something like lavender. He grinned. “I sincerely don’t want to upset you. But I have to admit you stink.”

It was a complete lie, but Thomas snorted, half amused half exasperated and tried to bat his hands away. “Hush, I bathed yesterday evening, you obnoxious fool.”

With a suppressed laughter John moved from behind Thomas and let himself sink to the chair next to him. With his hand pressed at his heart, he feigned hurt. “No, how can you? My poor fragile heart, it breaks under such defamation.”

Again, Thomas tried to hush him, rolled his eyes even, yet when John locked their gazes and pouted, Thomas relented. “Oh you, don’t give me that look. Stop!” John’s eyes started to glisten wet. “John that’s not… don’t you da-“ John added more to the drama. “Oh fine!”

Throwing his hands in the air, Thomas looked away, then back at John. “You’re insufferable,” he stated, annoyed, before he leaned into John’s space and kissed him. Their lips met in a gentle fashion, a little teasing maybe, but reassuring. When they separated, not after John had used the chance to card his fingers through the tips of Thomas’ golden hair, he smiled. And Thomas smiled as well.

“Nice to see your smile back,” he said, stroking Thomas’ lips lightly, just to receive another, shorter kiss in return.

“You’re right. I assume Miranda would be distraught to know I mourn on our wedding day. It was always filled with so much joy.”

The words caught John off-guard and he sat a little straighter, searching Thomas’ eyes. They were filled with nothing but honesty. It showed John his words were sincere, so he settled back against the backrest and asked, “Will you tell me about her? During my time as the Walrus’ cook all she ever was referred to was a sea witch who kept James alive with the blood of innocent children. Then, on our way to Charlestown I only caught glimpses of her at best, and after…” He stopped, took a deep breath and continued when he saw Thomas’ small but encouraging nod. “He was so broken and I didn’t dare to ask. Later our topic of discussion was either the war or, well, you. Lady Hamilton is still a mystery to me and I don’t deem it fair to remember the sea witch part only.”

Thomas laughed at that, gave the forgotten book on the table a spare glance and then closed it with a flick of his hand. “She was Miss Barlow before she was Lady Hamilton and she was a delight.” Then he stood. Reached for the crutch and gave it to John. “She also favored the parlor for stories, so I hope you don’t mind resettling?”

“I’d never dare to.”

* * *

“It was like a game, really. I stopped counting as of how often I asked her to marry me. She’d found an excuse time and time again. Once it was the rainclouds hanging over London, then it was the blinding sunshine she wouldn’t want to ruin her pale skin with. Which she didn’t really have. I would have burned more than her,” Thomas recounted the tale with a fond tone in his voice. John couldn’t see his face, as he leaned with his back against Thomas’ broad chest, but he could imagine. It felt nice to sit so comfortably like this. A sort of security, of belonging, to have Thomas’ arms loosely around his torso.

The words made him chuckle and he prodded the arm sitting in his lap softly. “I still wonder how you manage.”

“Wide long clothes on particular hot days,” Thomas answered matter of fact, which elicited a sound from John that said as much as that he found the image rather shameful.

“A crime, really, to hide this body of yours.”

When John felt Thomas’ finger wander dangerously close to his crotch he playfully slapped them away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Don’t distract.” Not that he ever would mind Thomas' touch on him, he had become rather fond of it to be honest, but he wanted to hear more. Also, while he didn’t mind Thomas’ sole company, he rather had James with them for an amorous encounter.

As if on cue it started to rain outside. The change of weather had gone unnoticed by the two because of the shared story but now it was apparent that the sky was thick with stormy clouds. Rain drops splashed against the window, beating in a steady rhythm. James wouldn’t remain outside much longer, else he would become soaked.

“Go on,” John encouraged Thomas to continue talking about Miranda, while his eyes focused on the entrance. He lost himself in the soft words and his posture relaxed further into the muscles of Thomas’ chest..

“Greedy boy,” Thomas murmured, before he continued with his usual voice, “I took her out for dinner, invited her to plays and dances. Once in the opera, she refused me twice on one evening, and still I followed her like a puppy to her house and bed. That we didn’t get caught by her parents is a miracle, though I admit then she would have had to marry me I guess.”

“You had an affair?” John asked into the small pause Thomas made and tilted his head to look up. He caught the blue of Thomas’ eyes, lovely and clear, like the sky. So unlike his own, without the edge of treachery, and soft. Innocent almost. By now, though, John knew he wasn’t that much of an innocent man. Good, yes, but not innocent.

“I wouldn’t call it that. It sounds rather shameful, don’t you think? We both hadn’t been married yet and we enjoyed ourselves. I knew I would marry her one day, why waiting for what society calls acceptable?”

Thomas fingers had started to play with John’s shirt, unconsciously and John didn’t stop him. He saw no need in it. Smiled instead.

“You never went the convenient way, didn’t you?” he said and startled when from the corner of the room someone asked:

“Who never went the convenient way?”

“James, dear,” Thomas laughed and John straightened a little to have a better look. Everything on James clung to his body like a second skin, water dripping mercilessly on the floor. Hair stuck to his face and with a swipe of his hand he brushed it aside. He was muddy and soaked, but it looked good on him. Everything looked good on this force of a man. “You better strip before you come in and ruin our perfectly cleaned floor.”

“You just want to see me naked,” James muttered under his breath but started to comply nonetheless. His breeches followed after his boots and the shirt had been gone, leaving him in all his glory for John and Thomas to enjoy. Stark naked he walked towards them and leaned down to kiss them both, first Thomas and then John, who had trouble to keep his hands to himself. But he had denied Thomas before and he would James now. For the sake of the story he was rather curious to hear.

“Now who was never convenient?” he asked, when he straightened again, and John indulged him.

“Thomas recounts his absurd vowing of a certain Miss Barlow,” he said and reached for James’ shoulder to draw him down again. He mumbled in his ear only for him to hear, as sort of explanation, especially for Thomas’ blue mood earlier this morning, “It’s their wedding day, today.”

It seemed James understood, because he turned his head to the side to kiss John’s cheek. It was a way of saying Thank you. “I dress and join you, if you’re amenable to it.”

“Of course,” Thomas said, and James left with a smile and a nod.

Silence stretched between them for a moment. It wasn’t awkward as silence often can become, but comfortable. They could fill the space between them with words, or just enjoy the presence of each other, both with sweet satisfaction that none was valued more than the other. Yet, John was eager to hear more, so he resettled in between Thomas’ legs, and asked, “How did you convince her to marry you in the end?”

Settling his chin on top of John’s curls, Thomas began to speak. Through his scalp John felt the motion of it, the soft breathing tousled his dark hair.

“I gave her a bunch of letters. You see, what scared her the most was to be bound and controlled. She knew I never wanted to trap her, but she told me, that to her marriage meant a man had power over her. Which in a way is true for most of aristocracy marriages. You can give a woman a household, a title, money, and still the moment a man feels burdened there are ways to play a woman by your liking. Because it’s power granted, and what is granted can be taken away.”

Thomas’ voice was steady and yet John could hear the sour undertone lying in it. The man who had wanted to change the world, free a trapped world and pardon practiced criminals was sensible for the wrongs of his society. It had led him to his doom in the end, but god, John wished there were more people like Thomas Hamilton. For his childhood may have been entirely different were it reigned by politicians like him.

“You gave her leverage,” John mumbled, not in need to ask about the content of the letters. Their relationship, a relationship of three men utterly in love and happy, was proof enough of what exactly Thomas had given Miranda as an additional proposal’s gift.

“I did, and she never used it…,” Thomas said and then looked up when a loose board of the floor creaked. John followed his gaze to see James had returned, dressed again, much to their dismay.

“She loved you,” James added softly, and closed the distance to the settee, lifting John’s legs and what remained of them, to make space for himself. They were neatly settled into his lap and John used his foot to draw James closer. It was obliged. Absentmindedly James started to undo the pins that held John’s pant leg up, rolled the fabric up to his knee and started to massage. A pleased sigh showed John’s gratitude. “She would have never used the knowledge against you.”

“I couldn’t be sure of that in the beginning,” Thomas stated, and John wished to see his face, but as Thomas’ chin had rested back on his head, he didn’t have the chance to look. “But I was, after she convinced me to woo Lord Grayfold.”

James snorted at that and John needed to suppress a laughter, when he stated, no almost growled, “The man was an unbearable prick!”

“The man,” Thomas countered with a tone in his voice that showed his amusement like a painting on the wall, “was actually quite amiable until a certain Lieutenant decided to mutter threats under his breath and scare him to death.”

Now John couldn’t hold the laughter back anymore and snorted openly, until James dug his fingers into his stump. Jerking, John tried to stop, but some low chuckles slipped through the fingers he held before his mouth to quell the laughter still.

“Always the gentleman,” he said when he had contained his laughter again, but only until Thomas added,

“And I didn’t even share the bed with Grayfold then for years. But our James was always quite protective.”

John could see how James formed the word ‘prick’ with his mouth silently and chuckled, almost fond of the jealousy James showed so openly. A part of him still marveled thinking about their relationship and the trust they shared. A good half a year ago he had been firm in his belief James would never want to see him again, kill him at best and ignore him at worst. Instead he was here, in the middle of two such wonderful men, John couldn’t describe in words how much he loved them. How much he loved James for allowing him to share Thomas with him. How much he loved Thomas, to allow him to share James. To experience that love grew and grew, with each new heart in balance.

They sat in silence, the only sound the rain splashing against the windows and on the roof, while the wind rattled the nearby trees. It was peaceful. It was whole. James had started to roll up the other pant leg, to continue his massage and Thomas followed this lead, kneading John’s hand.

“Have you ever wanted to marry, James?”

The question sounded loud in the silence and John tilted his head up to Thomas, forcing the man to remove his chin from his head. Out of the corner of his eyes, John could see how James looked baffled. Even the massaging stopped in favor to process the question Thomas had asked.

“Miranda would have never married me, and I wouldn’t have wanted to place the burden on her shoulders. You had been her husband and you always will be,” he answered after quite the time of consideration, so much that John almost believed there wouldn’t be an answer. He searched for the green eyes, and found sadness in them. Suddenly he was thrown back to the time after Charlestown, in which both of them had been hurt beyond recognition. Hurt in such a different way.

“I don’t say I’m quite proud of what all you’d had to do, but…,” Thomas said, but clearly struggled for words. That he wasn’t fond of the war James had lead was no secret, not to James nor to John. While he didn’t pretend to like all of James’ choices, he understood and had accepted. They were past it. James and Thomas of the destroyed peace, John and James of the committed betrayal and John and Thomas of their uncertainty towards each other. They were past it, so they didn’t play pretend.

“It isn’t what he had asked,” John finished the sentence. That they were past it didn’t mean there wasn’t potential for misunderstandings. Also, John had stated that sentence so often towards James, he didn’t bother to do again. Some air of reminiscence swung with the words.

“I… you mean, ever?” Surprise was the last thing John had expected, so he blinked confused. Had James really never considered it?

Thomas must have made a move, because James continued to speak, “No I didn’t.” He stopped, rubbed his eyes almost wearily and John reached out to grip James’ hand. Mirroring Thomas’ move from earlier, he drew James’ hand closer and pressed a kiss onto his knuckles. Entangling their hands, after, he sat it back down.

“I’ll always adored you and Miranda, you know? You, and the relationship you had. To marry your best friend… I guess wouldn’t I have the tendency to fall for already married couples…” He stopped, and John could see how he gulped. His adam’s apple moved visibly. “Then I would have wanted to marry my best friend, too.”

“What stopped you?” John almost whispered, drawn in by the words and James’ moving lips. It was a revelation, something he had never thought of. His mind tried to process James as a married man, with a ring on his finger and a wife next to him. Children maybe. Something in John’s throat tightened.

Instead of answering James looked at him. Searched for his eyes and found them. Whatever he saw in them, it must tell him something, something John wasn’t aware of himself. All he felt was his heart suddenly beating up to his throat, erasing his voice. He didn’t know why. Thomas arms tightened around him, squeezed and anchored him. Without them, John was sure, he would have fled from the situation. Instead he watched how James leaned towards him, cupped his face and kissed him. Kissed him in a way that made John feel like finally being able to gulp air after drowning. Breathing the kiss in like it was his lifeline and a necessity to live.

Even when James broke the kiss apart and reached for Thomas, John’s head swirled with unfocused thoughts. He could smell James’ scent, as his nose was practically buried in his shirt. It didn’t help to settle his mind.

Tilting his head and looking up, John could see Thomas’ and James’ lips move against each other. A feeling flourished in his chest, so rich and warm like the fire in a hearth. He loved watching them. Loved to see happiness. It was all he had hoped for when sending James to Savannah. In return, he had gotten more.

Would Miranda agree?

The thought slipped through his mind unbidden. Would she? As being the graceful women John had only seen during their voyage to Charlestown, which had eventually lead to so much pain. But there hadn’t always been pain. There had been banter and love, letters never shown, a relationship held onto until it was ripped apart. There had been encouragement. A love bigger than two people.

Would she agree or loathe him for enjoying a kiss that wasn’t his own?

It was James who answered John’s silent question, without even knowing.

He settled back and looked at both Thomas and John with a smile on his lips, which bordered somewhere between sad and happy. Two sides of a coin.

“It’s not easy to marry your best friends, when said men tend to be married already. Especially when one is assumed dead and the other tries to kill you,” James said and John winced, no matter he was glad to hear the teasing tone out of James’ voice. The coin had dropped, fallen onto the happy side.

“James, dear, you are aware that we’re all quite alive, not in the mood to kill anyone, and very much unwed,” Thomas mused, somewhere close to John’s ear as his head had wandered from his head to his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eyes John could see the huge grin directed at James.

Flicking his eyes to said man, John took in the bewilderment, which turned to incredulousness. A show of emotion John never tiered of. It was all James had had to hide as Captain Flint.

“John is still married to Madi!”

“Madi and I,” John started immediately, realizing where James’ thoughts trailed and he encouraged it very much, “are only technically still married and as we all technically can’t marry officially this is truly no argument.”

“Well…,” James started but trailed off. Looking at him, John took in his features. All the freckles on his presented skin, the green of his eyes, his red strands neatly tied back in a ponytail and the soft hairs of his beard around his mouth. Pressing himself from Thomas, John turned to sit back against the cushions of the settee. There was so much beauty around him. Thomas’ soft blond hair framing his face, the blue sky-like eyes and the pale complexion of his skin.

Miranda would have agreed. He was sure of it.

“Captain,” John said, and he saw the flicker in James’ eyes because the last time he had called him by this title had been in another lifetime. But now it was out of purpose, to remind no one could prevent them from doing anything. Only themselves and their doubts. “What do you remember about matelotage?”

For a beat of a moment silence was around them, then James grinned, smirked even before he laughed softly. His eyes lit up and all the wrinkles in his face framed them beautifully. “You little shit!”

And John was sure he had never heard a sweeter endearment. He was caught in it. At least until Thomas said. “Could someone indulge me?”

Well, they did.

* * *

**Bonus:**

“How did you manage to forget their wedding day?” John asked James, incredulousness heavy in his voice. The man had lived in a relationship with them, how could he? But James only snorted, which made Thomas laugh.

“It wasn’t _my_ wedding day.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Also I misplaced the date...”

“You mean you forgot,” John corrected smugly, which lead Thomas to say, mirth in his eyes.

“As long as he doesn’t forget ours.”


End file.
